


with our arms unbound

by mannersminded



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Post-Scratch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 17:59:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannersminded/pseuds/mannersminded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TT: Anyway, your grandma managed to run away when she was quite young. Maybe it was a traumatic event like dog murder that prompted her to flee, who knows.<br/>TT: Whatever the case, her bro stayed behind.</p>
<p>A final sunset on the Sassacre-Crocker family lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with our arms unbound

 “We’re not gonna make it through this one together, are we?” he murmurs, hand barely trembling against her thigh. “You’re not coming back.”

The sunset is a wash of scarlet on the horizon, and the moon has just begun to rise. She stares into the middle distance, then laughs, once, a grim bark too close to a sob.

When he turns to look at her, the sky is reflected in technicolour on her glasses. It’s almost too bright to see the shining in her eyes. He thinks of her when they were young, a courageous Girl Hunter on the Prowl! with a shotgun slung on her shoulder and a gleam of fearlessness in her smile. He thinks of dogs barking, and letters in green ink, and the taste of yellow cake. He wonders if she can see him through his own glasses.

“I’m sorry,” she says, finally.

Shakily, he grins. His voice has gone wobbly. “No, you’re not.”

 “No, I’m not.”

They stifle a mutual giggle, and he lays his head on her shoulder. The silence returns, thick with unspoken words, only broken by the rustle of breeze on the grass.

“I love you,” he says, finally. “I love you so much.”

She gently tugs her shoulder out from under his cheek. When he looks up, she’s staring at him, tear tracks fresh on her face. Her hand comes up, brushing tears he hadn’t even noticed from under his eye. “I know, silly. I love you too.” She leans in, pressing her lips to his forehead. Her breath is barely steady.

“I’m scared,” he pleads. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You know,” she starts. She chokes on her words, shoulders shuddering for a moment. “You know I can’t – you _know_.”

His face crumples, and he pushes away. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Haltingly she reaches for his hand. He grabs it like a lifeline.

“She’s going to kill you,” he whispers.

“Not if I kill her first.”

When he grins, it’s cracked and broken. “ ‘Course you will. For Halley.”

She squeezes his hand. “For us. For everyone.”

They sit together in silence for a while, listening only to the wind and their breath. The sun slips below the horizon without their even noticing. Darkness bleeds into blue and gold and bloody red.

“Are you leaving tonight?” he asks the fading trails of light.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll be safest here,” she mumbles. “Even with her. She likes you.”

He looks at their tangled hands on the grass. His fingers are so much longer than hers already. Even though he knows exactly how capable she is, he is reminded of the china doll on their mantelpiece – thin, pale, breakable. Fragile. “Everybody likes me,” he says. “I’m hilarious.”

She smiles, broad and certain. “You’re gonna be the best. Better than Father.”

He doesn’t mean to catch her eye, but when he looks up, he finds their gazes locked. The sun has faded almost completely, but the moon and stars are bright enough to see by. “So are you.”

They lean in as the last glow of sunlight slips away, and their lips press together, chaste and gentle. She pulls away first.

“I’m never going to see you again,” he says.

“Probably not.”

She stands before he can speak, fluid and too graceful for an awkward girl of thirteen and a half. The moon paints her in soft black and white, bows on her fingers a gray imitation of the colourful strings they used to be.

“Don’t look for me,” she says. “Please. Don’t tell them anything, not matter what they do, and don’t look for me. If I have to, I’ll find you.”

Bewildered, he shakes his head. “Don’t ask me to do that.”

“ _Promise_.”

When he sees her face, hardened in determination, his protests turn to ash on his tongue. She made the same face when Halley died, and when their first nanny disappeared. She made that face when she killed her first monster with their father’s blunderbuss. It is unforgiving, and it is immovable. “I promise,” he says.

She looks back to him, still curled up and cross-legged on the ground. “I love you, John. Stay safe.” Without another word, she picks up her rucksack and shoulders her shotgun.

The night has only just begun.


End file.
